Penchant for Violence
by RavenStyx
Summary: Zeref is a man on a wire, risking it all with no second chances. Rated M, warnings and other pertinent information inside. One-Shot.


**A/N:** This is a sister fic to Penchant for Sin, which was, at one point, posted to my other profile Freyjabee, (keep it secret, keep it safe). I have since deleted Penchant for Sin because someone plagiarized from me and I'm petty and didn't want them to steal the rest of it. But now I have this story kicking around and I actually really like it. So I'll post it as a one-shot here because I don't think I'll continue it now.

 **Warnings:** Violence, language, substance use.

 _Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima_

 ** _Penchant for Violence_**

* * *

Fingernails the colour of liquid smoke traced down Zeref's middle, lingering over the tattoo on his chest that read _In Bloom_ in jagged letters. They tickled and gave him chills all at once, cold, her fingertips, colder than her mouth, leaving a waking kiss on his shoulder, and her breath.

The touch moved from his pectorals to his abs and found the grooves between and her kiss migrated to his neck, wet, open-mouthed, deep and deepening. Her sigh. Her sigh was like a gentle hammer strike slamming the nail into the coffin that was Mirajane Strauss. She would be the last thing he never knew. He couldn't escape.

She put herself on top of him and he could no longer pretend to be asleep.

Opening his eyes, he looked up the curving slopes of Mira's body. She was mostly uncovered, in a pale pink dress shirt, yes, but both the shirt and the bra beneath it was open. Parts of her were heavy, her breasts and her hips, most of her was lithe in some fashion. Her legs were runner's legs. She never went very far or very fast but she went out almost every day. Her middle was toned from exercise he knew she performed habitually to keep the demons at bay, as were her arms.

Hair that smelled like daisies dropped around him and her mouth, already painted with lipstick, landed on his. She didn't care about the morning, flicking her tongue over his lips and demanding entry. What could he do? He kissed her and she gave him a small, muffled moan of approval. She tasted like toothpaste and lipstick. He probably tasted like last night's beer. The dichotomy between them was always so stark.

"What time is it?" Zeref asked when Mira would let him.

"Eight," she murmured against his throat. There were lipstick marks there now he was sure, and on his chest, too, as she worked her way down.

"I thought you have to leave by eight thirty?"

Mira's blues flicked up beneath a bed of black; her lashes were so thick and dark. They were the only kinds of shadow he wanted to fall into but they weren't the only ones he called his. Her fingernails curled into his forearms. "I do."

Zeref was smarter than to tell her to stop. He did say, however, "There isn't much time."

"Not much," she agreed and shimmied down a little further, taking with her the blankets that had kept Zeref warm. She left him with a kiss on his hipbone, and his thigh, and then on the very tip of his very stiff dick. She wasted no time taking him into her mouth. Zeref watched her go all the way down and all the way up again. Again and again, though he didn't need help getting hard. It was one of her favourite things to do.

Just as Zeref started to relax into the rhythm Mira was building, she stopped so she could sit upright and take him inside. He almost let her have the top position, but things always took a little bit longer that way. She'd be late. He took her by the hips and pushed her back. Mira went, always a giving lover.

Hair the colour of white gold spilled over the back of the bed. Zeref left a kiss between her breasts, and on each sloping side, too, before taking one pert nipple into his mouth. She bowed for him, sliding her hands up his bare arms with a gentleness he'd never had before she came into his life.

Zeref released her and sat up straight. Mira spread her legs, welcoming him in. He took her by the thighs and got closer, so their bodies made an L and slipped inside of her with ease. Mira's eyes fluttered shut and her mouth came open in pleasure. Zeref memorized her expression; he would think back to it when everything else was ugly and he wasn't sure if he could keep going.

Mira's fingers squeezed and her hips angled, letting him know that his stillness was not welcomed. "Stop thinking. Fuck me." She had him in her sights, always.

"Sorry." He pushed into her slowly for a moment, then, when she sighed in pleasure, he gripped her hard and slammed into her. Mira's breath caught up and then stopped while she held it. Her breasts heaved, her hair tangled, and her cheeks rouged in moments. Her voice rose next, loud enough that anyone braving the cold would have heard from the sidewalk.

"Fuck," she swore hoarsely. "Yes." Out came another stream of praises that could have made the most modest vain. Did she mean them all? Mira could lie with the best of them but her body would always betray her. Now, goosebumps dotted her skin and he could feel her pulsing around him, longing to keep him inside. They were perfect for each other, Zeref thought. Complimenting. She was light where he was dark. Kind where he was mean. Soft where he was hard. Forgiving where he was ruthless, though he _tried_. He had. He had tried so hard. His penchant for violence was incorrigible. As was her hate for it.

Zeref pushed and pushed until her breath hitched and she stretched backward, unable to praise him any longer. He gave up his grip on one of her hips so he could touch between her legs. A brush of this thumb brought her to orgasm. Her painted nails dug into the white bedsheets and her back arched, bringing her to an even more dramatic angle. Zeref held her that way and didn't stop for her to catch her breath, close himself. Mira released the blanket to tangle her once blow-dried and styled hair, and came again. Zeref followed suit, emptying inside her.

Slowly, slowly, Mira's fingers unclenched and Zeref loosened his hold on her hips. She had thumb bruises where he'd held her too hard. She'd told him once that she liked it so he stopped apologizing. A look at the clock read eight fifteen. Mira let Zeref remain where he was inside of her, panting, while she did up the front-clasping bra, confining her breasts. The shirt was done up next, one button at a time taking her away from him. He put another kiss on her sternum before she could get away completely and then got off of her.

Zeref waited for Mira to go to the bathroom first before getting up. There were clothes on the floor that tangled around his feet. He grabbed the offending article, a pair of light colored jeans, and took them to the washroom. While he pissed, washed his hands and brushed his teeth, Mira bustled on the other side of the door, dressing in a pair of slacks, fixing her hair, her lipstick. Zeref poked his head out just to see her slide the silver earrings into her ear that Natsu had gotten Zeref to get her for her birthday that year. It was the final stage of her routine and the thing he needed to see to know he was doing the right thing. Mira caught him looking she always did. Lips the color of pink rose curved into the gentlest of smiles.

"How do I look?"

"You always look good."

"Interview good?" she prodded.

"I'd hire you."

She rolled her eyes but it wasn't a serious thing. "I have it in the bag, then."

Zeref kissed her when she came for it. Would he ever be able to say no?

* * *

Wexgate Boulevard was an industrial wasteland, a monument to what the world used to be with its massive factories still standing but unoccupied. Once upon a time, there was talk of tearing them down and selling the land to commercial buyers but there wasn't enough interest in small-town Magnolia. Now, the brick monoliths lurked like crooked-backed sentinels on the edge of the lake, watching warily the tricks and trade that went on around them.

Large boxes off the backs of transport trucks waited at the edges of a cracked and tired parking lot, a graveyard of forgotten things choking the ground at their side. Box caps off pickup trucks, rusty bits of metal flashing, garbage bags torn and worn from being out too long in the weather, rotted bits of cardboard gone soggy, hiding sow bugs during the summer months.

Zeref ducked beneath the chain-link fence that lined the perimeter. On the other side waited Gildarts, standing beside a running cube van, the cigarette in his hand smouldering when it was sucked on. Tobacco smoke saturated the air, sweet as cola. Zeref touched his own package jammed into the pocket of his jeans. It had remained unopened since Natsu was in the hospital and with any luck, it would stay that way. He wanted to try to do better. Zeref didn't know if that meant not smoking or not but it gave him a place to start.

"Hey." Gildarts flicked his spent cigarette. It fizzled in a brown puddle of water. "I wasn't sure if you'd show up."

"I wasn't sure, either," Zeref said honestly.

Gildarts nodded. "It's dangerous work, I'm not going to lie."

"I know."

"But you've already got an in."

"I know."

"I don't know if I can give you much help if things go bad, either. I can't afford to blow my cover."

"I know." They'd been through it all before.

A silence came between them. Gildarts didn't let it get too out of control, giving Zeref a wistful smile. "Remember when Magnolia's biggest bad was you?"

Zeref said sarcastically, "The days you used to spend in my kitchen, getting wrecked with the rest of us?"

Gildarts willingly ignored the scorn in Zeref's voice. "It wasn't a bad gig."

Zeref leaned against the truck and crossed his arms. The parking lot was a desolate place. The only thing to move was the edge of one of those rotted bags, pushed by the wind. "If I knew then what I know now… I would have found a way to finish you, Clive."

Gildarts slung his arm over Zeref's shoulder. "This is why you're the best man for the job. You know exactly what's at stake."

Sure he did. "And its salary, right?"

"Right."

"Benefits?"

"You got it."

"Natsu's hospital bills?"

"Gone."

"And if shit goes bad?"

"She and Natsu get put into protective custody. Everything's taken care of for them for the rest of their lives."

"Sounds like a good deal."

"You're not going to get a better one."

Zeref took in a deep breath and let it all out again. When he imagined moving forward from the night Natsu was stabbed and shot, he didn't think it would be at the mercy of the police. He didn't think when he met a dead-end in Natsu's hospital room, out of money to pay for the six-month stay Natsu had to endure just to move into the Recovery ward, that he'd find himself _here_. He thought he'd take himself to Jellal, tell him that he wanted back in on the trade and do things behind Mira's back. He thought he'd be making his money in the dark and crooked alleyways of Magnolia. He didn't think he'd be cornered by Gildarts just a few houses down from Jellal's and bombarded with information and an offer he could not resist.

Things had changed a lot in the six months since he'd gotten out of the business. There was a new pusher who hid behind monikers and secrets, no one anywhere seemed to know his _true_ name or his true face, and most of what he was putting out was dirty and dangerous. He refused to do business with Jellal and those associated with him. Zeref thought that would likely mean him, too, but Gildarts was confident. Everyone in the business knew Zeref got out. Would it be so unreasonable to come back? Would it be so unreasonable to be refused by his old associates? It _would_ be unreasonable for the new blood to turn him away afterward. He had connections that no one else did in this city.

Gildarts took his arm away from Zeref's shoulder and put on his leather gloves. Zeref's stomach flopped. It wasn't the impending violence that got him twitchy. "Mira's going to ask questions."

"I'll try to be as gentle as I can but we want it to look good when you go after the Dragon. He has to know that through me, Jellal denied you."

Zeref took in another deep, deep breath, finding the limits to his lungs, and let it all out again. He took off his leather jacket and hung it on the back of the truck. "What if Jellal asks why you turned me down?"

"I'll tell him you were a greedy bastard. He'll believe me."

Of course, he would. It was true. Sitting at Jellal's side when Zeref had always run the show wasn't what he had in mind when he started toward Jellal's a few weeks ago. He wanted everything if he was going to have _anything_ and he wanted it the way it was before he left.

"You should get in a couple swings of your own," Gildarts added. "Let's make this count."

It had been a long time since he'd felt his knuckles bruise. When he was entertaining violence, he usually did it on the other end of a gun. His knuckles weren't strangers to blunt force, though. The first hit made them ache. The second dulled the feeling. The third split them open. He didn't get a fourth in. Gildarts swung back and he didn't pull his punches. Zeref didn't try to defend himself.

It had to be believable, after all.

* * *

Thanks for reading.


End file.
